Fairy Tale
by MessyJess
Summary: A one-shot in which Booth seems annoyed. Don't you just love annoyed-Booth? Rated T for some language, and because I'm a persnickety fat pregnant lady.


"Save me," she whispers into his neck as he cradles her against his chest. Her hair brushes against his cheek and one of her hands has tangled itself in his shirt and tie.

"I need you," bubbles out of her mouth and her big blue eyes are watery and piercing. Her hand clings to his.

"I love you," escapes from her mouth as she presses her lips to his. Her arms around his neck and her body pressed against his as they hold onto each other and forget everything else…

Those are all the things Temperance Brennan will never say to him. Never, ever, not in a million years. Those moments will never happen. There will never be a desperate embrace, or a long-repressed yearning finally, magically reaching its breaking point. She will never cling, swoon, coo, or beg.

But in his sleep, in his fairy tale dreams, she needs him and she tells him so.

But then he wakes up. And he chases her. He chases this confounding consternation of a woman that will never play the princess to his knight.

She was no princess, and Booth was frustrated.

She was ignoring him again. It was annoying. He felt like a child when she did that. She was just staring at mangled remains on some God forsaken piece of muddy ground, making oblique references to body parts, and using words that were entirely too complicated to describe an elbow or a butt bone, and _ignoring_ him. Any other woman on the _planet_ would find him charming. They'd giggle at him or look slyly over their shoulder at him and flirtatiously bat their eyes. He _knew_ they would, he'd _seen_ them do it.

Damn it, he was charming. He'd been charming his whole life. Women liked him. They fluttered their eyelashes and swayed their hips and there had even been a couple instances of direct come-ons. But not her, oh no, all he got from her was a look of impatience or a not so flirtatious eye roll. It'd been _years_; she should have fallen for him within the first twenty minutes. What. The. Hell?

The problem with her was her brain. It was always on. She always used it. It was the one organ in her body she followed with complete faith. Not her heart, not her gut, not her lady bits, but her _head_. He had no charm for that. There was no cute line he could lay down. She took everything literally and she never lied. Men say they want a woman who tells the truth and is straightforward, but that's just because they've never met one.

_Look at her over there, bending over those bones_. If he rose up slightly on the balls of his feet he could see almost all the way down her shirt. _Hmm, blue bra today, nice_. He settled back down onto his heels trying to wrap his brain around her brain. So, charm was out. It hadn't worked thus far, so it probably never would. He was never going to be able to talk his way into a new relationship status with her. She'd either freak out and go all Vulcan brainiac on him, or roundhouse kick him in the head. Not appealing.

Maybe he should just grab her and lay one on her. That kiss at Christmas had been successful. She'd even been slightly flustered afterward. Of course, so had he, but the important thing to remember was that she had stumbled over her words, and she'd had that smoky-eyed confused look on her face. He knew that look. Generally, women weren't backing away from him and asking a lawyer about water transportation whilst wearing that look, but nonetheless, a triumph for him.

That jackass guy from the FBI forensics lab was chatting with her. He idly wondered how much effort it would take to filet someone with the pen he was scribbling notes with. He looked from the black ink pen in his hand to the nerd with glasses and decided it would take more effort than it was worth. He should just go chat with her. The problem with chatting with her is it never wound up being chatting. She asked questions that made him flustered and then there would be all-important discussion and then he would get nervous and he'd have to flat out tell her to just shut-up, which she really didn't appreciate, or fall back on his charm to weasel his way out. The same charm that didn't actually come off as charm to the good doctor. She thought it was annoying…which was annoying.

A breeze kicked through the woods they were standing in and a shiver ran down Booth's back. He glanced again at Brennan to see if she felt it too. He could tell by her posture change and the way her arms came across her chest that she had. She'd be damned if she admitted it, though. He smiled and shook his head as he looked back down at his notepad.

One day, she'd admit some weakness. One day she'd swoon or her knees would buckle in the throes of passion. And he would be there, and she would love him for it. And that would be the beginning of their very own fairy tale.


End file.
